


Into the Sky

by Ellessey



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nostalgia, Plants, Romantic Fluff, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/pseuds/Ellessey
Summary: "Maybe they were just duds," Steve says, his thumb moving gently over Bucky's hand. "We can get some more."They were magic beans, that's what the package called them. They were supposed to sprout within a week. They were intended for ages five to ninety-five.Maybe Bucky's just too goddamn old.--Bucky has precious little patience with himself (and even less for his horticultural endeavors), but Steve has more than enough to go around.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 74
Kudos: 310
Collections: Supersoft Stucky Fics





	Into the Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kahluawmilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kahluawmilk/gifts).



> A small gift to celebrate the birthdays of both Bucky Barnes, who has my entire heart, and Em, who deserves the very softest supersoldiers in love ❤️

There's something so maddening about a plant that won't grow. A plant that's being given all the right things—the sunlight and the water and the music that makes Steve hide a smile when Bucky plays it—and still won't do the thing it was meant to. 

It's all a little too familiar for Bucky's liking. 

"Buck," Steve says when he finds Bucky leaning against the kitchen counter, watching the pot that sits in the little bay window over the sink. 

He planted three seeds in it over a week ago. Two of them have done nothing at all, and the third has become a small, sick looking seedling. Bucky doesn't know what he's doing wrong.

"Hey, Buck," Steve says again, and then the backs of his fingers brush along Bucky's wrist. The black and gold one that Shuri made for him. It's a pretty thing, and it used to surprise him, finding it attached to his body. He's mostly used to it now, though. It's been months since he left Wakanda and came back to New York with Steve. Moved into a bright little row house with high ceilings and two bedrooms.

They usually only use the one room, but Steve is good about making sure Bucky doesn't feel pressured. He's good about things like this, too—touching Bucky carefully to start, in case it's one of those days when Bucky doesn't want hands wrapped around him. Even if they're Steve's and he wishes he could always be okay with them. These days he likes having Steve's hands on him almost all the time, but he appreciates the thoughtfulness. He appreciates how easy it makes it when it's not a good day.

Today he's alright, so he tilts his head in Steve's direction just slightly instead of turning away from him, and Steve's fingers settle over the back of his hand.

"It's okay if you don't have a green thumb, pal."

"Children can grow bean plants. You saw the package."

The kit they bought had been specifically marketed toward kids, with a white ceramic pot and little plastic tubs of paint to personalize it with. 

It's still white because Bucky didn't know what to do with them, all those bright rainbow colors. There hadn't even been any black.

"Maybe they were just duds," Steve says, his thumb moving gently over Bucky's hand. "We can get some more."

They were magic beans, that's what the package called them. They were supposed to sprout within a week. They were intended for ages five to ninety-five.

Maybe Bucky's just too goddamn old. 

"It's fine," he says, even though it feels less fine than he thinks it probably should. They're just bean seeds that aren't really magic.

"Okay," Steve says, because he's very good at not pushing. "Want to go for a walk? Sun's just about where you like it now."

Bucky lets his focus drift away from the pot to the sky outside, turning pink on the edges. He's never told Steve that it's his favorite, when the sun's getting heavy like this, the light getting thick like amber syrup. There's a lot he doesn't have to tell Steve, that Steve gets anyway. He stayed with Bucky in Wakanda for almost half a year before they came here. Just being nearby and knowing Bucky, while Bucky was figuring out how to know himself. 

He nods his head and they get their shoes on together, head down the front steps and onto the street. The back of Steve's hand brushes Bucky's and Bucky lets it keep happening, watching Steve out of the corner of his eye to catch the way he smiles so soft. The way he looks over to Bucky when Bucky takes Steve's hand in his. Blue eyes bright, and hair just as pretty and golden as the sun. 

Bucky remembers a lot now, and he knows Steve has always been this pretty. He knows he used to kiss Steve's crooked nose. Used to draw his fingers slowly through his hair while Steve tipped his chin up and opened his lips for him.

They haven't kissed yet, in this century. They hug a lot now, though. Hold each other for long minutes in the middle of the kitchen. Wind themselves around each other in bed, so Bucky can fall asleep with Steve's chest moving against him as he breathes. Sometimes Bucky will kiss the side of Steve's head when he's asleep. Sometimes Steve will kiss Bucky's hands when it's a bad day and Bucky can't stop them from trembling. 

Sometimes, on very good days, Bucky wants to hold Steve's face and kiss his lips like he used to, but something keeps stopping him. Something like the way he feels when he sees the little seedling that isn't growing right, even though Bucky's trying so hard. 

Steve has been sweet and patient and perfect, and Bucky can't help worrying that he's like one of those seeds that doesn't even know how to grow. A human who doesn't know how to be one.

"Look at that," Steve says.

Bucky asks his thoughts to kindly shut the fuck up, and looks where Steve is looking. 

Two boys are playing on the sidewalk across the street. One sitting on a skateboard with his arms outstretched, the other hunched over, pushing his friend's back to help him fly. 

"Remember that rocketship you made? From your neighbor's refrigerator box?" Steve asks.

Bucky frowns, trying to pull up some kind of memory of this. "When?"

"God, I don't know… you were missing your front teeth so you must have been seven or so, right? You made us eat lunch inside it for a week straight."

Bucky closes his eyes. He remembers the scent of mown grass and warm cardboard. The taste of peanut butter and the little divot pressed into his hand from the handle of his mother's kitchen scissors. He borrowed them to cut out wings for the ship. 

"You painted control panels inside it."

"Mhm. And you painted our names on the outside. Rogers-Barnes."

"Right," Bucky says. He'd forgotten all about that rocket until now, but he's remembered for months and months that he always wanted to marry Steve Rogers. Even when he was seven and Steve was six, and being with him made Bucky sure he could do anything in the world. Discover a new planet. Marry a boy. Be whatever he wanted to be.

"Maybe fertilizer," he says. "Think that would help?"

"Huh?" 

"The bean seeds. We could try fertilizer."

"Oh, sure Buck, if you want. They might just need a little more time though."

"It's been more than a week."

Steve's face is very thoughtful when Bucky looks at it, and he has to look away right after. He doesn't always like how Steve seems to see him so easily. He thinks Steve probably knows he's overidentifying with his magic bean seeds that aren't magic. 

He wishes they were, so they would just grow and he would feel like he was capable of something good and bright. So he'd feel a little more certain that he could really be what Steve deserves. Someone who kisses him, and makes love to him, and stands in front of all their friends to promise him forever. 

He thinks he _will_ be that someone, but it's just taking him so damn long.

"Let's go over to the nursery then," Steve says.

Bucky nods and they change directions, walking towards town instead of away from it. They return home with the smallest package of fertilizer they could find, and Bucky measures it carefully while Steve moves around the kitchen behind him, making tea. 

"Sing them a little lullaby?" he asks once their mugs are both filled with hot water, letting his hip bump Bucky's.

Bucky puts a hand on Steve's waist to keep him close. "I don't know if they even like it."

"Well… I do," Steve says. He rests his head against Bucky's, heavy and relaxed

It's funny how many songs Bucky remembers, especially when Steve is with him. There are parts of his life he doesn't think he's ever going to get back, but he always has lyrics on the tip of his tongue. Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby, Billie Holiday.

Glenn Miller is there now, with the sky gone dark and scattered with pale stars outside the window. He keeps Steve right against him as he sings, every word of _Moonlight Serenade_ right there where he needs it. Along with a hazy memory of a dimly lit apartment, a crackly radio, and Steve in his arms. 

" _The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming. My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming?"_

Steve must remember too. He steps in front of Bucky and holds out his hand. His starry eyes just as bright as always. 

Bucky takes his hand and pulls him close, resting his other hand on the small of Steve's back. Steve was never a very good dancer, but he was just fine at this. Just being in Bucky's arms and swaying to the music.

" _So don't let me wait, come to me tenderly in the June night…"_ Bucky sings.

"March," Steve says, and Bucky snorts. It _is_ only March, and maybe it's too early for planting seeds at all, but in the song it's June. In Bucky's head it's 1939, and Steve is his, and Bucky knows just how to kiss him. 

" _I stand at your gate and I sing you a song in the moonlight. A love song, my darling, a moonlight serenade._ _"_

"Your voice is beautiful, Bucky," Steve says quietly, now that the song is through. "Did you know that? I used to stop whatever I was doing if you started up singing while you were washing the dishes."

Bucky didn't know that. He holds Steve a little tighter.

"I think they're going to grow just fine."

"Maybe," Bucky says. 

He can see the pot over Steve's shoulder, bright and bare. He can feel Steve's heartbeat against his chest and he closes his eyes. 

If Steve doesn't mind being patient, he supposes he can wait a little longer, too.

* * *

In the morning the inside of the pot looks the same. Possibly the lone seedling looks worse. 

The outside of the pot, though…

"Steve?" Bucky calls, but then he remembers. Steve left early for Manhattan this morning. He touched Bucky's shoulder and then kissed his forehead when he was sure Bucky was awake. He promised he'd be back by the end of the day, and Bucky had mumbled something unintelligible and fallen back asleep.

He doesn't know when Steve did this. If it was before he said goodbye to Bucky or after, but the pot isn't bare and white anymore. 

There's a rocketship painted on it, boxy and rectangular. There are flowers, and a blue sky, and a bright sun. There's a rainbow that stretches around to the other side where Steve's painted a nightscape with golden stars and that little cat from the video that makes Bucky laugh. The one that looks like a pink-iced pastry and has a rainbow coming out of its ass. 

There are way more colors here than the ones that came with the kit, so Steve must have gotten out his own supplies. Used his nice paints on this dumb little pot with seeds that aren't even growing.

"Idiot," Bucky says out loud, and then he has to go and find a tissue box because he's crying. 

These goddamn seeds might never open up. They might always be lifeless little pods hiding in the soil. The one that's sprouted might never grow the way it's supposed to. And of course Steve painted all over their little pot for them anyway, for Bucky, loving and thoughtful. 

He missed something though, and Bucky gets a Sharpie out of the junk drawer so he can fix it himself. Writes ROGERS-BARNES in big block letters right across the center of the rocket. He uses the hot pink paint that came with the kit to add lopsided hearts on each side of their names. 

He's briefly overcome with embarrassment and wonders if he should just paint over the whole thing so Steve won't be able to see it, but he likes the way it looks. His and Steve's. Like this little house, and the bed they share most nights, and that thing deep down in the core of him that Hydra never managed to wipe away. 

Instead of painting over the rocketship, he waters the seeds and sets the pot back carefully in the sun. He leans over the sink and sings a little more. One of the newer songs he's learned. It's called _I Will Follow You Into the Dark_ , and it made Steve go misty-eyed when he heard Bucky singing it once. It's true though, for him and Steve, and when he asked if he should stop, Steve just shook his head and held Bucky's hand. 

He can't help thinking that it's the other way around that's really the harder of the two though. He didn't even have to think about it to tell Steve there was no way in hell he was leaving that crumbling, burning building in Austria without him, or to tell him he'd go right back into the war beside him. 

It's following Steve into the light that's the real bitch.

Forgiving himself over and over again. Watching himself fail. Listening to himself talk in circles to his therapist, and making the choice every morning to give himself grace and time and love, the way Steve gives it to him so effortlessly.

It's late by the time Bucky hears the rattle of a key in the front door, and Steve comes inside. Bucky has long since given up staring at his pot and is reading in bed.

Steve's cheeks are pink when he comes into the room. Just about the same shade as the hearts Bucky painted. 

"I like what you added," he says.

He's such a big guy now, nothing like the Steve in all of Bucky's early memories, but Bucky does remember him like this too. He remembers feeling that broad chest pressed against his for the first time, and how safe he felt—even on the coldest, darkest nights in the middle of the war—with those big hands on his back, holding him close. 

They were still Steve's hands. Still those summer-blue eyes in his handsome face.

Steve says Bucky is still the guy he remembers too. He says the ways he's changed are just like adding toppings to an ice cream sundae. _"Just makes it even better, doesn't it?"_

It's hard to disagree when he's looking at Steve now. Big and golden and smiling shyly at Bucky. 

"Steve…"

Steve comes over to the bed and sits down on the side of it.

"You didn't have to do that… all that stuff you painted."

"It was fun," Steve says. "Do you like it?"

Bucky nods and wraps a hand around Steve's wrist to pull him closer. "It's perfect," he says, not looking up. 

Steve is right next to him, and he smells like Tony's coffee and Pepper's perfume, which is okay; Bucky likes both of them. Underneath that he just smells like Steve though—like light and soap and paint—and Bucky likes that the best. 

"It is now," Steve agrees. "I wasn't sure if you'd want that on there, our names, but—"

Bucky reaches up to touch Steve's cheek, and Steve stops. 

Bucky's been thinking a lot today, about patience and love, and how Steve seems to have so much of both of them. And about how good Bucky is at overthinking things, and how he never used to think about this at all, just reached out and did it. 

He leans in to Steve, right up close until the tips of their noses brush. 

"Steve, can I kiss you?" 

"Yes," Steve says, a little breathless.

Bucky tilts his head—to the right, by old, old habit, because the left side of Steve's nose used to always be plugged anyway, and this way the clearer side was free of the press of Bucky's nose—and lets their lips come together the way he's been wanting to for so long.

Steve's lips are as soft as he remembers, plush and sweet. He keeps his own pressed to them while he inhales and exhales slowly, and then he pulls back.

"I've been thinking," he says, keeping his eyes closed and his face still close to Steve's so he can feel his breath. "That you're pretty good at waiting."

Steve doesn't say anything, but his hand is on Bucky's head now, gently stroking over the loose strands that have slipped out of his bun.

"I kept… I was afraid to kiss you, because I know I'm not ready to do more than that."

"You don't have to, Buck. I'd _never—"_

"I know," Bucky says. "I know you wouldn't. I've been so annoyed with myself, with how long it takes me to get comfortable with anything new, that I forgot… I guess I forgot that for what a goddamn impulsive son of a bitch you've always been, you're nothing but patient with me."

"Well that's… that's real romantic, Buck."

Steve is smiling. It's Bucky's favorite thing to see. 

"I love you," Bucky says. "And you're it for me. And it might take me years to be able to touch you the way I want to, but if you're alright with—"

"I am, Bucky, of course I am. I just wanna be beside you."

Side by side in a cardboard box in the middle of summer. In the middle of a battlefield. In the middle of the night when Bucky needs Steve to hold his face between his hands and remind him how to breathe. 

"I might always be, like… not right," Bucky says. "I mean I probably will be. Like the bean plant."

"Okay, first of all, whatever you are is right, Bucky. Always. You need to know that."

Bucky rolls his eyes, but Steve touches his chin, nudging it up so Bucky will look him in the eye. 

"You hear me?" he asks. "I don't care if you think I'm being cheesy, I mean it."

"I know you do. I hear you."

Steve nods, tucking a lock of Bucky's hair behind his ear for him before dropping his hand to wrap it around one of Bucky's. "And you'll try to believe me?"

"Stubborn," Bucky says, and Steve nods again. Bucky kisses him quick and soft, then he nods too. "Yes. I will. What's the second-of-all?"

Steve blinks, his face still soft and open from the kiss. "Wha… oh, the plant. When did you last check on it?"

"Lunch time, maybe? I don't know," Bucky says. 

Steve smiles, and he's already getting off the bed and pulling Bucky with him, leading him into the kitchen where the light over the sink has been left on. It casts a warm glow over the colorful little pot, and over the lonely seedling that is… different. Sturdier looking than it was this morning, with it's two leaves spreading out instead of crumpled inwards, and also not actually alone. There's a tiny bit of bright green pushing through the soil next to it.

" _Oh,"_ Bucky says. He grips the edge of the sink so he can lean closer. Feels himself smiling stupidly at the sight of these little bits of life that he had a hand in. 

"That one's me, I think," Steve says, leaning in next to him to point at the new arrival. "A bit of a late bloomer."

Bucky breathes out a laugh, catching Steve's hand so he can hold it tight. "They're growing."

"Sure are."

"Was it the fertilizer?"

"I think… it was the moonlight serenade, if you want my honest opinion."

"You don't have a clue," Bucky says, turning to face Steve instead of the seedlings. "You just want me to sing to you."

Steve beams and doesn't disagree. He falls right into place when Bucky pulls him in the way he did the night before.

"Any requests?"

"Do you... do you remember the song that was playing the very first time we kissed? We were at your place, and Becca had the radio playing so loud we could hear it all over the house, and I—"

"You kissed me so hard my lip swelled up like a bee sting."

"I was _nervous,"_ Steve says, blushing. "I miscalculated and kinda launched into you instead of leaning."

"It was cute," Bucky says, starting to move with Steve even though there's no music yet. "I don't remember the song though. How did it go?"

Steve settles in closer against Bucky's chest, leans his head on Bucky's, and starts to hum. A tune Bucky wouldn't have remembered on his own, but now that it's in his ears, in Steve's smooth, low voice, it floods right back to him. Sixteen year old Steve with his fierce kisses and his strong fingers in Bucky's hair, and the words that were the soundtrack to Bucky's first time tasting his best friend's lips.

Bucky takes it slower than Fred Astaire did, when he starts to sing, so he can keep this easy, rocking pace he and Steve have set. So he can press kisses to Steve's cheek, one after another in between the words.

" _Heaven, I'm in heaven... and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak."_

It's almost funny, after how many years Bucky spent in what he was sure must have been hell, but here he is now. The only place he ever wanted to be.

" _And I seem to find the happiness I seek…"_

He has to pause again, because he thinks he's getting the hang of this, now that he's remembered how simple it is, to just let his lips meet Steve's. How very nice it is, the way Steve goes soft in his arms and hums a little, even though it's just another light kiss.

" _...when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek."_

Steve laughs when Bucky presses their cheeks together, and Bucky fumbles some of the rest of the lyrics, but Steve sings along with him until he finds his place again. And then even after that—a little duet for the pair of tiny beans on their windowsill. 

"Maybe," Steve says a little while later, when they're still dancing in the silent kitchen, "they'll grow right into the sky."

"They're not really magic, pal."

"No?" Steve says, and he gives Bucky this look. This look that says _what's all this, then?_

The two of them here, safe and together, with lips still warm from gentle kisses. Their little pot with the rocketship that bears their names and all of Bucky's childish dreams. Dreams that he can hold right in his hand now, as sure as he's holding Steve. 

"Well," Bucky says, relenting. "I'll climb them, if you will."

"Try and stop me," Steve says.

Bucky shakes his head slowly, with his eyes on Steve, and Steve smiles at him warm and sure, because he knows what Bucky means without him saying a word.

He'd never try to stop Steve. 

He'd follow Steve up to the sun, right into the light, no matter how long it took. And he knows Steve would do the same for him.   
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Emmmm, I love you!!!
> 
> The songs Bucky sings to his bean seeds and his boyfriend are _Moonlight Serenade_ by Glenn Miller, _I Will Follow You Into the Dark_ by Death Cab for Cutie, and _Cheek to Cheek_ by Fred Astaire.
> 
> Thanks to Val and Ess for looking over this, and thank you for reading! You can find my other stucky fics [here](https://archiveofourown.org/worksutf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=110293&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&user_id=Ellessey), and can find me continually singing their praises (and Sebastian Stan's) on twitter at [elliebbarnes](https://twitter.com/elliebbarnes).


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